Daily Archives: April 13, 2014

So, this is a question I struggle with periodically. Is Manic Depression a blessing, curse or both? There is no denying that my life has changed immensely both for the good and the bad since being diagnosed in the early 2000′s. But, is my life really worse than it was before? Was I truly happy, […]

So, this is a question I struggle with periodically. Is Manic Depression a blessing, curse or both? There is no denying that my life has changed immensely both for the good and the bad since being diagnosed in the early 2000′s. But, is my life really worse than it was before? Was I truly happy, […]

I feel like the walking dead. Yesterday drained me. Did I work?  No. What did I do that sucked the life out of me? Social activities.

I took my kid to the easter egg hunt. That sucked. Major crowd, but I was doubly Xanax’ed so other than being uncomfortable, I was dealing. It was when they did the 3-4 age group hunt. 100 eggs for 30 kids. They specifically said no parents, and about ten moms were out there rushing around scooping up eggs for their kid. My kid got ONE egg. It made me mad. It also made me sad when my kid said “I only got one egg, that makes me sad.”

Every time I think my opinion of people might simply be depression or past scars…Some asshole proves I was right all along.

It was soul sucking.

We were invited to a cook out Mr and Mrs’ R’s house. I hate cook outs. But after six months of coming up with excuses to avoid socializing I FORCED myself to go. It was awkward. Ten people, half of whom I didn’t know, most of them half my age. I drank wine. That helps with anxiety. It doesn’t make me a social butterfly. I tried to fake it and smile and interact. Mostly I wrangled Spook and R’s 2 year old granddaughter while the adults were busy talking. Meh, it’s my role in life, apparently. I am just more comfortable with kids.

Then his oldest daughter, with her PhD in psychology started in another one of her spiels about her bipolar mother (her mother’s diagnosis is borderline and I know this because when I was with R I saw the court ordered report from the custody psych eval they had to have done.) How can you have a psychology degree and not know the difference between borderline and bipolar? Then someone said something about hypochondria and she started in about Munchausen’s and the DSM 5 and blah blah. She didn’t even know the origin of why it was called Munchausen’s.

I did.

I really despise know it all’s. I really despise otherwise intelligent people who have personal issues and transfer them into their profession. Yes, her mother is and was a violent neurotic manipulative hypochondriac. Rather than have compassion, she shows disdain and makes it a case of  “she just chooses to be that way.” Yes, we chose to be mentally ill. It’s such an awesome way of life and people look so fondly on us.

Ass trash.

Being around people like that just pushes my buttons. I went in  a pissy mental space because my dad started in on me about going after the Donor for child support. “He has a brand new car, if he can afford that, then he should be forced to do the right thing.” Well that he has to be forced to take care of his kids says all I need to know about him. Real men step up and take responsibility. If you have to MAKE them then they barely deserve to be called  a father. Then  I specifically told my dad, “Can you just stop telling me about the man, I’m sick of hearing it.”

He called this morning to tell me my uncle saw The Donor at the store he works at.

Utterly clueless and apparently fucking deaf.

I came home last night and stayed up about two hours but my entire body ached, my head hurt, I just felt utterly drained. The shrink keeps telling me being around people will do me good. Yet it never does.

Today I have barely done shit beyond kid and cat care. I feel like I’ve been awake a week and run a marathon.

Instead of nourishing my spirit and soul socialization just taps and vein and sucks the life’s blood out of me.

Joy, joy, happy happy.

At some point in this vacation/pilgrimage to the place of my upbringing, Charleston, I decided to walk from the motel to a very well-known restaurant that sits at the edge of the Ashley River.  I waited only a short time before I was seated at a window that looked out across the salt marsh to the river..and across the river to the city marina and downtown Charleston beyond.  The experience of sitting at that window has stayed with me...and now I know why.

I came to Charleston to reconnect with sensations I equate with happiness...sparkling water, sunshine, boats, salt marsh, sea birds, etc  In that restaurant, I had the perfect seat.  I was not in the glare of the setting sun, not yet mellowed.  I had the perfect view.  But, I was miserable.  It was TOO FREAKIN LOUD! Annoying music, dozens of conversations, tables being dragged and dropped.  People were having to scream to be heard.  And when I sought solace in the things I loved, I was met with a cold, hard piece of glass.  I could not hear the sea birds, I could not smell the salt marsh, I could not feel the soft breezes or hear the clinking of the sailboat masts.  It was all out there, but it was beyond my reach.  It was not for me.

I am coming up out of a near-fatal depression and I am trying to feel something, something happy, something other than anger, resentment, fear, and disappointment.

It is Sunday morning.  The restaurant is closed now.  I went for a walk in the early morning sunshine, skirting around the large, empty parking lot, beside the salt marsh, across in front of the restaurant (the music is still playing inside), and back along another marina.  I gazed across the water and caught my breath.  There on the opposite dock was a sailboat, painted varnished teak and blue. I'm not good at guessing lengths but she had only one mast.  It was so unexpected, almost hidden like an easter egg.

When you are in a serious depression, you do not really expect to come out.  But sometimes, something so unexpected, something so insignificant, can give you a little bit of hope.

Have you ever been surprised to find hope?

I had this great idea.  I thought that after enduring a scary and life-changing depression, I should reconnect with things I know I love:  water, sky, clouds, boats, salt marsh, sea birds, ... Charleston, SC. and the surrounding areas.

When I was depressed, I no longer felt any affection for art, writing, photography, or even getting up and getting dressed.  I did dishes and laundry like a mantra.

Pulling out of the depression, I felt vacant and a little afraid of being interested in anything.  I thought a gentle trip home would help.

Well, first of all, it is Spring Break. There are so many people, and so much traffic, no parking, and so much noise.  Everywhere I went yesterday, there were festivals.  What do you do at festivals?  You eat and spend money and get overwhelmed by the crowds.  I do not need that...any of that.

I have seen the shimmering water, the changing light in the sky, lazy clouds, the salt marsh at high and low tides, watched the sea gulls surfing on the wind, and even caught a whiff of plough (pluff) mud.  Lithe, white sailboats are all around me.  It does not do it for me, anymore. It just makes me sad.

I grew up here.  I went to college here.  I went through several relationships while living here.  I have not been by the houses where I lived...that would be getting too close.  My childhood was painful and sad.  I would not do it again.  Since the crisis a few weeks ago, I have spent a lot of time writing and talking about memories of hard and disappointing times.  Being here brings up more...foolish financial decisions, inappropriate relationships, break-ups, mean neighborhoods, frustrations, and prolonged depressions.  At one point in my life I wanted to return and live here.  I can barely afford to live where I am much less live in Charleston.

I have been very critical and intolerant of the frustrations here and that is not like me.  I suspect the new medication I am on has some play in that.  However, while walking in the sand with my head down, yesterday, I struggled with my reaction to it all:  art, photography, salt marshes, etc. and decided I needed new material, new things, new places.  My set of standby's has too many negative memories attached.

I'm feeling a little fragile.  I will need to take it slow.

Any suggestions?